


In Spite

by enma



Series: The Five [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 03:57:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17842004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enma/pseuds/enma
Summary: Spite by name, spite by nature, word and deed.





	1. Blood on the snow

**Author's Note:**

> Random plot bunny that bit and bit hard. Let us see where it goes.

Two pairs of eyes staring.  
One heart beating.  
Breath puffing, smoking in the snow-glare.

"You... haaaah... you get noth-ingggck! hah..." Blood misting out onto the crisp white. Is that a tooth?

The oldest, older than time, blinked slowly and withdrew.

Everything dissolves into static. 

***

"... s... aughter?"  
A flicker of heat, brief and precious against a sluggish, stubborn pulse.  
"Oh my GOD! This one's still alive!"

The static returns as the echoes of warmth fade away.

***

"Do you remember anything more about the crash?"  
A man sits in a hospital chair, fingers clasped tightly around his pad and pen. He can't seem to hold eye contact with any part of you.

"Just the aftermath; pain and burning." A sigh gusts out your mouth and he flinches at the extra whirr of machinery. "And no, before you ask -again-, I still don't remember anything before it either."  
The scratch of pen on paper is just as irritating as the multitude of times before. These people are so very useless and sometimes you wish you could get up and strangle each one, force their eyes to bulge out until they pop. You smack your lips to make the sound and smile.  
"Perhaps we could try this new..."  
No. You think as you firmly close your eyes and pretend to sleep, we are not trying anything.


	2. Bright lights and Dim faces.

Static fades away as you open your eyes. Still no dreams. That could be... troubling.  
As you blink the ceiling into focus, the noise and bright lights inform you that it's at least mid-morning. A trolley rattles up to your bed and a cheerful nurse pops her head into your vision.  
"Good morning Sweetie! How are you feeling?" she rattles around, checking the machinery and the notes. "I have it on good authority that the doctors will be coming to visit today so lets get you up and ready."  
Oh that sounds fun. You can't even count how many times a parade of them have been by, gawking at what's left of you. Feeling like a museum piece was only fun when you wanted to be looked at. Right now people are nothing more than a daily torment.  
Speaking of which, now the nurse is lifting the head of the bed and you can feel the pressure on your spine. It aches, in a distant way but nothing you can't handle. Much better to see what's going on than be stuck wondering.  
Oh. No, now you can see and you don't like it. That's a sponge bath awaiting you.  
"I swear to god, you get one drop of soap in my eyes again and I will bite you!"  
She laughs, like you don't actually mean it. "Don't worry my love, I will be extra gentle." You can hear the smile she's wearing and you don't like it one bit. "But first!" are those scissors?! "Let's give you a little trim to neaten up."

You hate her, so much.

***

"Good afternoon Miss ***********, My name is Dr. ******* and with me is..." Nope, you are not in the mood for this. You smile wanly anyways. There's six of them this time and you can tell which ones are morbidly excited by the fact that they are the only ones directly looking at you.  
A stray piece of hair is itching your neck. It's a different enough sensation from the usual that you can't be bothered getting it gone. You hope the nurse didn't completely mess your style, but it's not like you're allowed any mirrors to check. Maybe you should just get the rest shaved off...  
"So we were thinking that this surgery could be performed first and then the artificial stomach can be attached in the next one. If that takes then we can begin adding the artificial..." 

You are a jigsaw with too many pieces missing and too many players trying to make their own parts.

"No. I am not undergoing multiple surgeries. Fix me the first time or not at all." As you glare some have the courage to meet your eyes but the speaker does not. "I've already told all the others this. Unless you have a new idea piss off."

After some more arguing, and a nurse not so subtly throwing them out, you are finally left alone.  
Carefully you reach out to the keyboard and screen left in range and pull it to your front. It's rudimentary at best but it's not like you have any other options. Using the account some tech guy set up for you you log in to the internet. An email is in your inbox but it's just from the lady who apparently is your lawyer but hasn't even been in to see you yet. Until then, you're ignoring her. 

###Dr. R. Bacon. Cybernetics and Bio-engineering###

You pull up the public journals he published and all the papers you can find. It's time to study.


	3. Retreat, rebuild, regret.

You weren't poor but you weren't rich either. Looking over your accounts you did some rough calculations and theorised that you had enough insurance to cover some more months in hospital and maybe two or three more surgeries. The problem was that those surgeries were only trying to replace parts of you and not guaranteed success. You were heartily sick of being poked and prodded by people who were interested in putting you together piecemeal only until the money ran out.  
Then you'd be reduced to life as a freak show living off savings and handouts until you finally decided to off yourself.  
No, what you needed was someone who would rebuild you completely. This morning you'd sent messages to a very select few you thought might be capable and interested.  
One of them had just replied. You click open the email and send off a quick prayer to whomever may care to listen.

 

***

Dr. Roger Bacon himself was a small, unassuming old man. You'd hardly care to pick him out of the crowd. His cane tapped against the tiles arrhythmic-ally, making your eye twitch but you bottled it down. Apparently he'd already heard of your circumstances and been on a flight over. Enthusiasm was a good start, you guess.  
He'd introduced himself with a weird little hop and held direct eye-contact during your long-winded request. When you had finished he'd made a little "hmm" and smiled with his yellow teeth.  
"I believe I have the perfect solution, but," he raises his hand to silence your gratitude, "But, it will not be easy, nor quick. And there may be some... hmmm... controversial methods."  
You tilt your head slightly and raise an eyebrow. "Do I seem like the kind of person bothered by that?"  
Roger places both hands atop his cane and rests his chin as he contemplates you carefully. A long moment passes where you met his gaze evenly, trying to convey how much you need this.  
"Very well," he relaxes and so do you, "As long as you are willing despite the risks, I can make you anew."  
"I can pay any price and," you grin wryly at him and gesture at your diminished self, "I hardly think there's anything I have left to lose."

***

Turns out there's a lot left you can lose.

It will be worth it. You need to believe that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roger Bacon has been taken directly from Shadow Hearts the video game series. But I've given him internet access XD.  
> Anyone who has played the series may have an inkling as to what help he is going to provide. I'll say this, You are partially right.


End file.
